


Bedtime Stories

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: Link can tell right away that the kids aren’t going to sleep any time soon, the lightning flashing so bright it seems like it’s right outside their windows, thunder rumbling the foundations of the house.





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Another one that's been languishing for nearly a year. Thanks to Rachel for looking this over when I first got the idea last May (!) and telling me it was cute and worth writing. <3 Other than that, though, it's unbeta'd, so any mistakes are all my fault.

Link can tell right away that the kids aren’t going to sleep any time soon, the lightning flashing so bright it seems like it’s right outside their windows, thunder rumbling the foundations of the house. Locke and Lincoln are trying to keep up appearances, though Link sees them jump every time the thunder rolls through, and they lean closer to Rhett every time the lights flicker. Shepherd is curled up tight in Rhett’s lap, holding the green leatherbound copy of _The Hobbit_ while Rhett reads to them. It doesn’t matter that they’ve all heard the story at least once—twice, for the older boys—Rhett does a great job with all the voices, and with the electricity wavering, it’s the best entertainment they have. 

Lando, however, is having none of it, and is currently whimpering in Link’s arms, his bright blue eyes brimming with tears. 

“Shh, buddy, it’s okay. You know what that sound is? It’s just the angels up in Heaven bowling,” Link murmurs, smoothing his son’s hair back from his forehead and pressing a kiss to the soft skin there. It was what his mom used to tell him when he was little, when he’d get so scared when the storms rolled in that he’d crawl under his bed and refuse to come out until the rain had passed. Lando tips his head back and regards him with a look more skeptical than any three year old should be capable of making.

Link sighs, shifting him to his other hip. “Yeah, I never really believed it either.” Changing tack, he pulls a face, scrunching up his nose and sticking his tongue out, waggling it around until Lando giggles and buries his face in Link’s shirt, tears forgotten. Apparently, his son responds better to silliness than platitudes. Link isn’t surprised.

Thunder booms again, and Link has to keep from jumping himself. He’s not a kid anymore, no longer terrified to the point of immobility at the thought of a storm, but it doesn’t mean he likes them. Absently humming ‘It Never Rains in Southern California’ under his breath, he digs into his pocket for his phone and taps on Christy’s name.

“Hey, honey,” comes her voice, warm and sweet, and Lando perks his head up from where it’s resting on Link’s shoulder.

“Mama?” he asks, and Link nods. Lando grins. “Mama!”

“Hi, baby,” Link says, “and Lando says hi too, if you didn’t hear him.”

“I heard that. Tell him Mama says hi back. So what’s up? You boys having fun?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Link assures her. In the background, he can hear Lily chattering about something excitedly, and Jessie’s murmurs of interest when she stops to take a breath. “I just wanted to call and see how my girls were doing.”

“Uh-huh,” Christy says dryly, “and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that it’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there?”

“Well,” Link starts, sheepish, and Christy just laughs.

“My big strong man,” she teases. “We’re doin’ fine. Lily had a great time at the spa, got a manicure and a pedicure while me and Jessie were gettin’ a massage, and now we’re just relaxing in the hotel room.”

“Sounds real nice, baby. You give Lily a kiss and tell her I love her, okay?”

“Want me to give Jessie a kiss for Rhett, too?” Link can hear the grin in her voice and he chuckles.

“Heck, give her a kiss for me. Rhett doesn’t care enough to call, he doesn’t get the credit.”

Christy laughs again, and Link’s heart swells with how much he loves her, loves all his girls. It’s maybe not the most normal arrangement they’ve got, but it works for them, and he’s never been happier than he has been the past few months, now that they’ve all—well, Rhett would say now that they’ve all gotten their shit together, and he’s not wrong. Sometimes Link feels like this was decades in the making, and he wishes they’d figured it out sooner, but there’s no sense feeling sorry for himself when he’s got so much to be thankful for now.

Another loud clap of thunder sounds, breaking him out of his reverie, and Lando covers his ears with his palms, lower lip quivering.

“I better, uh—”

“Go get back to _your_ big strong man, he’ll protect you.” Christy giggles, and Link lets out a huff of mock-annoyance. It ain’t untrue, though—Rhett’s been his protector since they were seven years old, and Link was hiding behind the couch when the thunderstorms came.

“Don’t know why I put up with you, woman,” he murmurs. Holding the phone up to Lando’s face, he tells him, “tell Mommy and Jessie and Lily goodnight, huh?”

“‘Night, Mama ‘n Jessie ‘n Lily,” Lando repeats dutifully, and Link can hear Christy making kissy noises through the phone before he takes it back, cradling it against his shoulder and shifting Lando back to his other hip.

“Gonna see if I can get this little guy to go down for the night. Love you, baby girl.”

When he gets back to the living room, it’s a significantly different scene than the one he left. The cushions have been pulled from both the couch and the loveseat, laid out on the floor in a configuration Link remembers well from his childhood. Rhett’s got Shep on his hip, a mirror image of him and Lando, Shep’s curly blond head nestled into the crook of Rhett’s neck. He’s not asleep yet, but it’s a close enough thing that Rhett whispers his greeting when he catches sight of Link.

“The boys are getting the spare blankets out of the linen closet,” he says, grinning like a little kid. “When’s the last time you made a blanket fort, man?”

Link snorts. “I’m not gonna be puttin’ up with your bellyaching about your back if you sleep in a blanket fort. You’re bad enough when you fall asleep on the couch at work.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Tell me that tomorrow when it doesn’t hurt to get outta your nice cushy king-sized bed, idiot.”

Lincoln and Locke come back, arms piled high with what looks like every spare blanket and sheet in the house, and set upon the pile of cushions with gusto. With their arms full, neither Link nor Rhett can do much more than offer suggestions, but the boys are surprisingly good at the construction, draping, folding, and securing with a lot of giggling and a minimum of argument. Link doesn’t think about his engineering degree very often anymore, but he feels a swell of pride seeing his boy—his _boys_ —take such care with something as silly as the structural integrity of a pillow fort.

He turns to Rhett to mention it, but Rhett’s already looking at him with softness in his eyes, and Link knows that Rhett’s thinking the same thing. It’s amazing, Link thinks, being able to see themselves so clearly in the children they’ve raised together.

“Hey, look at that—they’re both asleep,” Rhett says, nodding his head towards Lando, who, sure enough, is leaning heavily against Link’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, tiny baby breaths puffing against Link’s neck.

“Huh. That was easier than I thought it was gonna be.” Link rubs Lando’s back, soft and slow, and inclines his head toward the stairs. “Wanna put them down and help these guys finish up?”

Rhett nods. “Don’t think they need much help, honestly, but we should at least say goodnight.”

Getting Lando and Shep settled in Shep’s room takes barely any time at all, not even a flutter of eyelids when the covers are pulled over them, and Rhett switches the battery-operated night light on as they leave, bathing the room in a dim orange glow, just bright enough so that nobody wakes up scared in the middle of the night, even if the electricity does finally give up. Link tugs the door almost shut behind them, open just a crack so that they can hear any calls for help during the night, and they make their way back downstairs.

Lincoln and Locke are nowhere to be found, but there’s a yellowish light coming from behind the sheets at the ‘front’ of the fort and a whole lot of giggling coming from within, so it’s not exactly hard to figure out where they are. When Link pokes his head in, the boys are flipping through a stack of comics with a couple of flashlights propped up together, a makeshift campfire.

“We good here, guys?” Link asks, reaching out and ruffling Lincoln’s hair. He ducks away, batting at Link’s hand, so Link does it again, grinning hard.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Rhett says, his body warm as he kneels next to Link. Locke nods, turning the page of the comic he’s reading without looking up.

“Oka-ay, Dad,” he sing-songs, and Rhett chuckles.

“I get it, I get it. Goodnight, boys.”

“‘Night,” they chorus in unison, utterly disinterested, and Link laughs. The storm is still raging outside, but the kids don’t seem to notice it at all anymore, wrapped up in the worlds they’re reading, in the comfort of the fort, in the safety of being near one another.

It’s a familiar feeling, one that buoys Link as they make their way back up the stairs, turning down the covers and tumbling into Rhett and Jessie’s plush bed. Up here, the rain is louder, and in the relative quiet of the house, the next clap of thunder seems impossibly close. Link jumps without meaning to, and across the bed, he hears Rhett chuckle sleepily.

“Come here, man,” he mutters, drawing Link close. Link’s about to protest—he’s not a child, he’s not _scared_ , he was just _startled,_ that’s all—but Rhett presses a kiss to his forehead, then to his lips, soft and warm, and Link relaxes. This is how it’s always been, more or less. This is how it always should be.

Despite the rain pounding on the roof, Link slips into sleep easily, head tucked into the crook of Rhett’s neck, comfortable and secure. He wakes the next morning to sunlight streaming through the curtains, not a hint of the storm from the night before, and a heavy weight on his legs.

When he looks down, he finds Shep starfished on the lower half of the bed, head flung back, snoring like a little freight train, and Lando curled up next to him, thumb in his mouth, blond hair mussed against the crisp white covers. He can hear Lincoln and Locke clattering around in the kitchen, probably making breakfast and making a mess at the same time.

Grinning, Link turns towards Rhett and kisses his nose, then shuts his eyes again. None of them have anywhere they need to be, and outside, the sun is bright.


End file.
